The exquisite thing about aging is the reawakening of wide-eyed wonder. All the oohs and aahs of life seen through my own magical gaze. And not those of my children or...
Hey E Baby I was thinking about that Sunday morning Just after we bought the house It was November and the rain Was pelting on the window All dark and dreary outside So you put...
Write the stories you like to read. Make the music you like to listen to. Paint what you see with your heart not your eyes. Take pictures of the things that delight you. Weave...
The act of authentic writing is like performing open-heart surgery on yourself. Without anesthetic. You slice open your chest, rip apart your flesh, hack into your bones and pull...
Decades ago In another lifetime I fell in love With a beautiful young man. We were barely adults On the brink Of becoming All kinds of things Beyond what we were In that sliver of...
When I’m driving, The things I see in my peripheral vision frighten me. More than anything I see square on, Or right in front of my face. These are the bugaboos that catch me...
This morning While I was sitting here drinking coffee In the silent stillness and stifling solitude Of my writing space My mind drifted lazily Back To when I was a young woman And...
This is a bit I wrote for my sweet daughter when she was seventeen. Last night I tried to explain First Love Heartbreak And why you hurt so much. Love is complicated Messy and not...
I have a Maple Tree in my front yard. I brought it with me from Ontario as a tiny sapling. I removed it gingerly from its mother tree the morning I left to return to BC. I wrapped...
I found this note taped to a bank of mailboxes. They are part of the scenery on the country road that I walk every day. This is how I do lunch. Take what you need, it said. So I...
